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Adipose City: The Adipose-Munich Run

Part 2- Across the Atlantic

By Psion

An Adipose City Story

All Rights Reserved

Immediately after events in Part 1...

Due a run-in with the PhysEd Consortium occurring late in the first half of the race, the Adipose-Munich Run had a bumpy start. Two of the racers' vehicles were damaged; one was so badly that there was a question that they would be even able to continue the race. In an attempt to try and save face, the vehicle manufacturer Kraftwheels, the race's sponsor, allowed the racers an entire day to get ready to pass through the Mass Atlantic Waypoint and cross the transatlantic tunnel system over to the United Kingdom. For some of the contestants, this was a chance to loaf around after some light maintenance. For others, it was about to be a test of their technical talent.

Choques couldn't help but be a little bit nervous as she slowly waddled along towards the garage where she left her car to get fixed after getting dinner. Up until arriving at the MAW, she was the only person racing alone. That changed after PEC decided to ambush the contestants as the race ran through the Canadian backwoods before reaching the waypoint. While her vehicle had only been moderately damaged, her employer Taco King had argued that they'd be allowed to change their team composition. Hence how Tanque had added to her team roughly a third into the competition.

Tanque was someone the TK Road Hog knew mostly by reputation. The coyote Big Tool didn't socialize all that much as far as she knew, if he did then it definitely wasn't in any groups Choques interacted in. And as a "little" social butterfly, the brown-furred field mouse was a familiar face in many Taco King social circles. Thus it said something about Tanque that she knew little about him outside of his MacGuyver-like talent at improvising repairs seemingly out of junk. Loyal company agent, a big muscle-gut with a huge "fuel tank" of a belly that won virtually every burrito and taco eating contest he ever entered, and a hardened barroom brawler able to stand toe-to-toe with a PEC musclehead in melee. That was pretty much the limit of what she knew about him. That and somehow, despite being a unapologetic flirt that has yet to really meet a male that she didn't like, the coyote male made her uneasy.

Leaving the Taco King garage only long enough to get food, the keg-bellied Big Tool had been working on the Kraftwheels Lady Bug almost since he arrived yesterday afternoon. The pear-shaped mouse made a face as she recalled the vehicle they had been assigned when the race began. Much like men, Choques didn't think there was a car or motorcycle she didn't like. Until she had been introduced to the Lady Bug, a mutated Volkswagen Beetle redesigned with a Smart Car's sensibilities. Small engine with hardly any guts to it and a smaller cabin that made the six-hundred-pound rodent thunder goddess feel like a sardine in a tin can. The fact that she was so well padded in the hips and rump thanks to Dr. Cramitin's obsession with chemical-enhanced gluttony was probably the only reason why the trip was as marginally comfortable with the gearshift pressed against her crotch. With Tanque, fitting his big gut into the cabin with her massive rear seemed impossible... except she had seen the Burger World team had found a way to pull it off. Granted it involved that southern fox, Daisy Dukes she thought his name was, getting all but completely smothered by Jennifer Moore, the notorious "Tank Ass" in both build and profession, but the two of them managed to pull it off. Stopping outside of the Taco King garage, she stifled a giggle. Oh if there was a moment where she could pity her northern rivals, it was right now.

Sitting alone in a small Burger World eatery with a triple bacon-cheeseburger for company, Jennifer Moore stared at the half-eaten burger in her hands. The blond-haired she-bear was a mess of conflicting emotions at the moment. Through no true fault of her own, their car had been wrecked in the PEC ambush. Being forced to drop out of the race was a strong possibility unless Daisy Dukes, a vulpine Big Tool femboy that was her assigned mechanic on the Burger World team... and a coworker she never really liked. DeeDee was a male yet he acted more like the biggest girl than anyone she ever knew, in both personality and physical size, easily as big a pear-shape as she was, something she never was comfortable with. And yet right now all her hopes of staying in the race hinged entirely on him. Clearly if there really was a God, He was a cruel bastard with a twisted sense of humor.

With the rest of her coworkers on assignment elsewhere, Moore was alone in her thoughts and finding her normally avid appetite seemingly absent. Her broad, camouflaged ursine bottom was spread out between two chairs built for patrons of a more chubby persuasion as her generous brown-furred paunch bit into the extruded plastic table and steel blue eyes stared off into space. Just her, her thoughts, and her burger...

"Oi! Are these seats empty or are you going to need them for your own fat Yankee arse?" Correction, and Pounds of team Aristo. The big black wolf Road Hog was standing next to the table with a plastic tray bearing a deluxe combo meal with a milkshake.

The comment warranted a snappy comeback about Pounds' own luxurious "rear trunk capacity" but Moore found herself merely gesturing for the wolfess to help herself and looking at her rugged and well-loved smart phone for a notification from Daisy Dukes. The one time she wanted to have his soft, honeyed Southern accent in her ear was the one time he essentially locked himself in the garage and talked to no one except to get take-out from the way station's delivery service.

Pounds set down her tray and sat in the two remaining seats at the table, round lupine rump squished comfortably against the sturdy plastic. "Well this is unusually unboisterous for the legendary Jenny Moore. I half-expected another comment about me being denied proper Aristo food, not that I'm not overjoyed to be in the UK soon. Where is your mechanic, that scrumptious-looking fox?"

"Fixing our car, it's broken remember? Where's your tag-along caddy, Lady Boobsalot's personal pony ride?" The mountainous Burger World tank mistress replied, taking a few more bites out of her burger.

"Oh Anvil says he'll get something to eat later. Personally I think he's still a little shy after the last time we went belly to belly. Shouldn't you be helping your technician fix your car?"

"That right there is perhaps the most intelligent thing I've seen either of you doing since the race began. As for Daisy Dee... Even if we were both super-skinny PEC lunks, that damn piece of junk is still too small for both of us to work on together. Any smaller and the blasted thing would be one of those motorized couches the really fat folks use to get around. So no, we can't really work on it together, not effectively at any rate. And as much as it burns me up to say it, he has worked miracles in the garage before."

"Oh good, I was hoping you wouldn't have to drop out of the race. I want to see how well you fare with proper cooking. I mean you name one of your restaurants Big Grub for heaven's sake."

"I'd be bothered by that if Aristo didn't have a buffet with cheap beer on tap named Slug's." Moore countered with a smirk, finishing her burger with a defiant belch. Outwardly she seemed to have recovered her spark but inwardly she still couldn't help but worry. Would she have to drop out? And would staying in the race be worth the nagging feeling that she would owe DeeDee big time if he pulled through? Tomorrow would be the judge...

Lying on a memory foam mattress, soft cotton draped over his body, and a heated room. About the only thing that would make Bansh's night better was discovering that the motel had room service. It didn't but a PhatStacks within walking distance more then made up for it. Which lead back to where the wild ass animan was now, drinking up the relative luxury of his surroundings as the black-haired Road Hog gently nursed a bloated belly packed drum-tight with pancakes, waffles, French toast plus all manner of toppings. By tomorrow it would all go to his "steppe." Oooh, such lovely decadence, if only the race would never end... but it was and win or lose he was probably going to be sent back to the frontier of PanAsia's territory to continue scouting for the corporation, mapping the locations of PEC cells and Blightweed patches threatening to encroach on PanAsian farmland. A necessary job and one he would have been happy to do if it hadn't been forced upon him by a particularly petty manager upset with Bansh's apparent friendship with the manager's son; disgraceful influence the Mongolian donkey's fat ass.

Still, it could have been worse. He could have been sent out to perform his task without a vehicle, mapping equipment, or survival gear. Still, no matter what he may do to make his tent more comfortable, it was still not quite as nice as this. Nor did he have to hunt or forage for food, which was magnificent. Unfortunately he was certain his augmented digestive system was going to let very little of his lavish meals go to waste unless he was feeling particularly punny with his waistline. Which in itself was probably not a bad thing, more padding to soften his nights on the hard ground and insulation to keep out the Central Asian cold. To say nothing of what it would mean for his curvaceous figure, he contemplated with a sly smile. If only he had someone to appreciate his broad hips and enormous bottom in bed with him... He had asked Soy if she wanted to share an evening with him but she had declined with a blush. Oh that silly panda, why did she feel the need to hide the fact she was seeing the freelancer Thunder from him? Among other things, it wasn't like she didn't have excellent taste in big-bottomed cuties...

The next morning, an hour before the racers were to gather and start the next leg of the race, Jennifer Moore slowly waddled into the Burger World garage. Her immense stomach felt like it was full of butterflies as the automatic door opened up and... the Kraftwheels Lady Bug that had been assigned to her team had been repaired and her mechanic was all packed up. The Burger World car still looked fairly beat up but it was presentable and the bear didn't doubt it was drivable.

And the magical "little elf" she had to thank for this miracle was currently fast asleep in the back seat of the Bug, soy paper burger wrappers littered across his chest and his mechanic coveralls clearly looked slept in. The bear frowned ever so briefly as she contemplated the one rain cloud in this otherwise beautifully clear sky, she would be damned if DeeDee ever let her live this down. Balling up the strewn edible wrappers and swallowing them in one gulp, she got herself comfortable and started the engine. Her vulpine teammate woke with a start to find his field of view completely blocked by a squishy mountain of camo-clad ursine rump. "Hope you ate well DumDum because we only have enough time for a quick grab-and-go breakfast before the race starts and I am not going to drive all the way from Canada to Pounds' god damn jolly old England with a bag of bones for a seat cushion." She replied gruffly as the small car puttered out of the Burger World garage. Time to finish up any last minute preparation before Europe...

As the racers gathered up at the starting line for the next leg of the race, Choques inhaled and did her best not to be nervous. To her surprise, Tanque was just as uneasy... just not because of the race. Almost immediately he had figured out how Daisy Dukes had managed to cram so much burger butt into the Burger World Lady Bug and removed the front seats out of their car. Unfortunately, they were now crammed together much like Jennifer Moore and her mechanic, with her enormous broadside in what remained of Tanque's squishy lap. It was tight but not quite as uncomfortable as she imagined it would be. Her partner was surprisingly soft given the muscle beneath his flabby belly and she could tell he was quite embarrassed to be this close to so much mouse rump. Choques couldn't really blame him; she was pressed right up against him with his hands and legs making a tangible imprint against her big rear bumper. No matter, at least his touch was heavenly whether he knew it or not.

Lined up in the order they arrived in, something that was a bit of a trick to calculate considering the shape some of them arrived in, the racers took off again. First to leave was the Armadillo vans, barely having enough time to get up to speed before they were passed by the PanAsian and Aristo Spirits that left behind them, the rugged sedans raced down the cavernous tunnels of the Transatlantic roadway. Bringing up the rear but not for long were the Lady Bugs, neither Moore nor Choques were willing to be left behind in the dust after their fellow racers fished them out of trouble in the first leg of the trip.

The transatlantic roadway was a massive underground tunnel terraced for multiple kinds of traffic. A high-speed train ran along the lowest level, carrying passengers and cargo to and from both sides of the Atlantic. Above, six-lane highways stacked on top of each other ran in either direction. It was on these sprawling roads that the racers drove as the tunnel rumbled from a train passing underneath. LED lights cast the roadway in an unnaturally bright light while the tunnel seemed to stretch on forever. For hours they drove like this. Leads were gained and lost; there even was a point where the Armadillos managed to get out in front of the others. When the contest crept under the island of Iceland, breaths were held but nothing happened. The PhysEd Consortium did not try to meddle with the race as it passed underneath their home territory, allowing the rotund cyberpunks to drive on to Scotland and the rest of the United Kingdoms unopposed.

The next major stopover was in the city of Glasgow, Scotland. One of the major metropolitan areas before the Peak Oil Crisis, Glasgow remained much as it did before the Peak Oil crisis due in part to the UK's greater reliance on mass transit then Canada and the United States. Pounds smiled as her vision and HardLink data feed were filled with the logos of Aristo franchises, Slug's Pub, Soup de Jour, Bistro... and not a Burger World restaurant for miles. After a long journey across the ocean, she was finally home. Now to log in with the race officials before getting caught up on all the proper food she missed since starting this endeavor.

Slug's Pub was a popular "low class" brand in Aristo's line of eateries, a relatively low-end buffet that served cheap beer and ale on tap. It was primarily a restaurant for the underclasses and tourists but Pounds visited it on occasion, particularly when she wanted to stuff her face and wasn't too finicky with what. This particular Slug's wasn't particularly different from most, a ground-floor establishment built as part of a working-class apartment block. No sooner had the bottom-heavy black wolf gotten out of her car, Anvil in tow, did the Aristo Road Hog spotted a familiar Lady Bug with a Burger World trifoil painted on the side pull in to the lot. The ursine tank mistress Jenny Moore seemed almost pleased that fortune had allowed her to cross paths with her British rival once more, almost as if she was craving a rematch after their last encounter in Maine. Both Big Tool mechanics looked at each other... quietly backing away while their partners regarded each other with that same stare again.

"Trouble getting reservations?" Pounds asked with a snide smile as her stomach grumbled challengingly.

"Hardly, just wanted to make sure I got a place that didn't serve little snob-sized portions." Moore fired back automatically, feeling much more like her normal self now.

"Of course, the fact that you can hardly act like enough of a lady to get in to some of our finer establishments had nothing to do with it I'm sure." Pounds smiled, enjoying herself immensely.

"Big words from someone who apparently wanted to meet me here. Guess you aren't- Wait, where did DeeDee go?" Moore countered nonchalantly, looking around when she noticed that both of their mechanics had seemingly disappeared. Or at least so it first appeared.

Looking behind her, Pounds caught sight of the two of them just as they were about to turn the corner. The vulpine technician had put an arm around the equine blacksmith's shoulder, his accented voice still distinctly audible even a block away. "So Anvil, care to show a Yankee tourist what's good in Aristo? Is it true that Soup de Jour sells buckets of puree tomato basil soup as big as my head?" He asked just before both round-bottomed males disappeared from sight. Both females wordlessly stared at the retreating sight before turning back to one another, eyes narrowed. This changed nothing, they both thought silently as they entered the buffet, this grudge was between wolf and bear anyway.

The interior of the pub was typical of British and Irish pubs towards the end of the Petroleum Age, with adjustments made for the much larger waistline of the modern diner. Polished stone floors, sturdy wooden benches and tables, and a buffet line piled high with pub food from across the entire United Kingdom. Fish and chips, prawn bisque, braised lamb shoulder from GMO sheep, all manner of stewed root vegetables, pork pie, and finally bread and butter pudding. Taps for a number of watered down beers and ales lined the far wall behind a bartender who looked more like he was there for checking ID's then mixing up a mean cocktail.

Seating themselves across from each other at the same table, the dueling gluttons began their battle. Stacks of dirty dishes grew as entries were consumed and mugs frequently drained of beer. Pounds fought the urge to let her eyes roll up towards the ceiling in gastronomic pleasure, it felt so good to have a taste of home caress her taste buds. Moore meanwhile was surprised to find the offerings to be fairly hearty, she had assumed up until this point that all that fancy-ass French cooking had dominated Aristo. The she-bear's stomach was quite happy to be mistaken as the deluge of meat pies formed a heavy, comforting lump in her abdomen. The battle of the bellies had begun...

Meanwhile, Anvil and Daisy Dukes enjoyed a much more leisurely meal at Soup de Jour. A French Aristo establishment, Soup de Jour was a small grab-and-go restaurant chain that specialized in cardboard tubs of soup and stew. His choices included popular recipes from across Western Europe plus a few selections the overstuffed fox was sure were swiped from Burger World's own menu. No matter, it all smelled positively heavenly as the scents from the kitchen wafted up and tickled his vulpine nose.

Picking a British stew that sounded particularly tasty, the brown-haired male took his purchase and sat next to his rival. "So, do you think we'll need a forklift to carry out our drivers?"

"Oh almost certainly, if we can squeeze them out the door at all. If we don't, I'll be disappointed." Anvil replied as he gently sipped on a steaming cup of some Irish soup the fox didn't recognize. "Mmmmm, so good. So when do you think we should go back to get them?"

"Oh, let's give them another half hour or so. Sound good?" DeeDee smiled mischievously. Anvil replied with a slight blush as the effeminate stallion busied himself with his cup of soup, yes a half hour was more then sufficient for those two to fill their guts to capacity and then some...

In reality it ended up closer to forty-five minutes by the time the two mechanics finished their soup and leisurely ambled back towards the Slug's Pub, the Road Hogs slowly waddle-staggered out, bloated bellies briefly wobbling with their own inertia as both elephantine females hiccupped happily, singing bawdy drinking songs. The Big Tools looked at each other and smiled, both clearly wishing one of them had a camera handy, before taking their drivers to the hotel to sleep off their binge. Both women would likely be insufferable in the morning, either because of a hangover or because they couldn't remember who won, but right now neither male cared. Seeing their drivers drunk and completely unlike their normal surly selves was worth it...

The next morning the final leg of the race began in earnest. Racers only had to pass through the Chunnel, drive through France, and make their way to the finish line in the city of Munich in eastern Germany. The polar bear twins Teeninety and Ingenury smiled and giggled as they sat in their Armadillo waiting for the race to begin. They had pulled out into the middle of the pack during the long trek through the transatlantic tunnels, a lead they hoped to maintain. Teeninety rested a white-furred cheek on her hand as she regarded the other racers idly. Was it her imagination or did the Burger World and Aristo teams seem to be testing their suspensions a little harder then usual this morning? No matter, soon the race will be over and they will be able to return to Russia and Motherland Provisions, back to teasing Nikki and Molotov.

Taking off in the order they arrived, the last leg of the race began in earnest. Traversing to the Chunnel was surprisingly chaotic, the race split up across several windy roads that took drivers through picturesque Scottish and British countryside. Cars drove past sprawling farms and ranches producing food for countless Aristo consumers in the cities. Unfortunately taking a variety of routes caused them to lose sight of the others, something that didn't sit well with Hummer, the tomboyish vixen contemplated as she navigated the Armadillo van along a long country road. Herds of massive GMO cattle grazed in the distance as windmills framed the horizon, each of the genetically enhanced and deliciously fat beasts was nearly as big as the Road Hog's truck. Her abundant stomach grumbled as the blond female's mind briefly turned to thoughts of steak and the challenge of eating a whole modified steer from head to tail. Someday she was going to have give that a shot, but obviously not today... at least not without some greedy-bellied backup like Thunder to handle the leftovers. Focusing back on the road, the pear-shaped fox gripped the wheel with a smile. That prize money was going to do more for her then buy an entire cow for her to eat.

Unlike most of the roadways of the Kingdom, the Chunnel connecting England to the European mainland underneath the English Channel had been renovated and expanded upon to accommodate a wider range of traffic and wider travelers. Trains still ran through the underwater tunnel but they did it between several lanes of traffic coming and going from the island kingdoms. Choques smiled as she seemed to have arrived in the lead, no one was in sight and all the other Kraftwheel transponders were transmitting somewhere behind her. The car was tight, especially with the rigid interior squeezing against her broad hips and Tanque pressed against her backside, but her copilot was continuing to take the claustrophobic lack of space surprisingly well. And with nothing else to do, the two had spent much of the journey chatting. The coyote was a reluctant conversationalist but Choques was nothing if not persistent and it wasn't like he could go anywhere pinned beneath her six-hundred-pound ass in a tin-can car going roughly 68 miles an hour.

Gradually he began to open up, his real name was Enrique. How he got his nickname was blatantly obvious. He was oddly quiet about his life before joining Taco King, responding to the question with an inquiry about her past times, which in turn led to the two of them discussing their hobbies and favorite nightclubs in Mexico City. Tanque turned out to be not much of a party-person, kept to himself a lot, a fact that made Choques feel a bit depressed until she thought of something. "How about after this race, we go have some fun in Munich before we have to go home?"

Tanque's reply was a silent blush. "What's the matter, not interested in ladies?" She teased gently. "You know I can give you a lap dance to die for if you're interested." The mouse giggled. Her companion merely blushed some more but she could tell he was considering it, his touch became slightly less reluctant and she could feel other signs of his potential interest pressing against her abundant flesh...

In mainland Europe at last, the racers began to make their way through France and the Netherlands before arriving in Germany. The rest of Aristo territory passed by much like England and Scotland but Deutschland was... different. Between Aristo to west, Italiana to the south, and Motherland Provisions to the east, Germany fought to remain independent despite being caught in between the Aristo-Italiana feud and the threat of Motherland solidifying a buffer zone to keep the conflicting corporations away from their territory. The result was as distinct as it was subtle, there was the same amount of farms, greenhouses, and woodlands as in North America and the rest of Western Europe, but there was a far more militant air to the people and dwellings as the racers got closer to Munich. Several of the contestants noticed that the tractors in the fields had been subtly armored aftermarket, the tractor drivers briefly regarding the speeding procession of cars with a wary eye before resuming their tasks, and the buildings were more sturdy or bore the signs of battle and vandalism. In the central German city of Hamburg, largely abandoned after a PEC cell operating in the city was discovered and forced out, concrete buildings were covered with graffiti of incomprehensible German slang and imagery vilifying Aristo, Italiana, or both.

The final lap of the race was close, even the lumbering Armadillo vans started to speed up the deeper into Germany they drove. Was it the end being nearly in sight or the concern that they might get caught up in another ambush if they lingered too long? Bansh couldn't tell, it probably didn't matter anyway he contemplated as he drove along with the panda Soy squeezed in beside him. It was tight, the enormous black-and-white furred she-bear probably would have been more comfortable in the back seat of the Spirit but she hadn't complained yet for most of the race and at this point the discomfort was moot. Soon this contest will be over and then they will have some time to themselves before their next assignment...

"Well Soy, we are almost to Munich. Do you have any plans before PanAsia calls us back to our posts? Maybe spend some time with Thunder?" He asked coyly, the road his only other witness to the inquiry.

The Chinese Big Tool blushed. "How do you know?" She looked back at her driver suspiciously. Bansh resisted the urge to laugh; Soy could be reliably secretive about company business but her true feelings? Not so much.

"The tracks are subtle but they are there. The way you can't stop occasionally glancing at him when he's around, the look in your eyes when you respond to my offers of companionship... like you're silently wishing I was someone else." He replied with a snicker.

"Jealous?" She asked coyly.

"Of you or him? You certainly know how to pick up the cute booty boys." He countered with a mischievous smile, getting an even bigger blush out of his compatriot as she realized what he was implying. "You are both welcome inside my yurt. After all, I always wanted to know what it felt like to be in the middle of a threesome." The effeminate donkey giggled. "Maybe I'll ask him if the two of you would like to make it a night in together? The three of us on a memory foam mattress, room service on a company account... Oh come on, can't we have some fun before I go back to patrolling the interior?"

Soy was just about to make a decision on whether to consider Bansh's request or shove him out of the car and take the wheel when the trap was sprung. With a roar of heavy methane engines, a monstrous black truck appeared behind the racers. Taking up both lanes of the roadway was an unmarked boxy vehicle bigger then even the Armadillos, bristling with light anti-vehicle weapons. Loudspeakers briefly screamed something unintelligible in German as the small landship sped up and chased its targets through Hamburg's abandoned industrial quarter. Communications chatter between the racers was informative only in how uninformative it was. No one had any idea what was going on or who sent this wheeled goliath after them. All that was clear was that the final stretch had gotten a lot more interesting.

Moore and Choques didn't mess around, each shoving the full weight of their leg down on the accelerator. Diminutive Lady Bugs took off with a roar of their undersized engines, swerving to avoid incoming weapons fire. A brave gesture but one that was quickly outdone as the Aristo and PanAsian Spirits raced past them to the she-bear's grimace; no doubt their motors had the guts to outrun their sudden pursuers. Meanwhile the Armadillos... the Armadillos were taking their lumps like a pair of champs and still going strong. Now there was something Kraftwheels would have no trouble taking to market after this fiasco, the Burger World Road Hog contemplated with a slight smile seconds before the mysterious black truck scored a lucky hit and shot off one of her back wheels, tire and all, off its axle.

The Burger World car spun out like it was in a pinball machine, sparks flying as the frame ground against the concrete wall of an abandoned warehouse. Moore fought to regain control of the vehicle, smashing through the rusted bay door and into the ruined building proper before coming to a crashing stop into a concrete support pillar. The last thing the mighty Tank Ass remembered before blacking out was the sound of DeeDee understandably screaming like a little girl...

One by one, Hummer watched the other racers get picked off by their mysterious pursuers. Burger World, Aristo, Taco King, even PanAsia, all of them wrecked by the roadside. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her mechanic press against the glass windshield as they raced past the Spirit decorated in PanAsian green. "There's nothing we can do, this freak's riding my ass like a drunk frat boy." The blond vixen replied automatically yet with no small amount of reluctance. She hated running from a fight but with the odds this badly stacked against her, it was the best she and the Motherland twins could do to just keep running...

As the surviving racers got closer to Munich, their mysterious assailant backed off as suddenly as he appeared. One moment the truck was there, the next it was gone. Unfortunately that mystery was going to have to wait, the sooner they got this behind them, the sooner Hummer could try to offer some comfort to Thunder. Surely that strange truck wouldn't have engaged the racers without a cleanup crew following behind it...

Moore groaned as she suddenly regained consciousness, the blond she-bear blinking as she felt blood trickle down her face... Thank god Kraftwheels didn't skimp on the airbags and she had an ass just as pillowy or Dee would be... where was DumDum anyway? She looked with a start as the events leading up to the crash came back to her with a start. The girly-boy fox was gone, as were his tools, the back of the car had been forced open with a combination of cutting tools and percussive engineering.

Groaning, Moore reached for where her sidearm and the med kit were hidden in the car. Her gun was quickly placed at her hip but while she was digging around for the medical supplies, her hand brushed against a spent Regen-Up hypo sticking out of her rump. Apparently Dee was alright enough that he was able to stab her in the butt with a syringe, inject the healing medicines, and then cut his way out of the back of the car. Pulling the empty medicinal needle out of her backside, she grabbed the rest of the first aid kit and slowly tried to squeeze out after DeeDee. Crap, looked like it was twice now that she owed him one while on this job, thunder slut better not want her to be his "wingman" come amateur night at Club Derriere or something. Being a "sub" on stage, shaking her ass in nothing but her underwear and a girly pair of heels was really not her idea of a good time.

Unfortunately it appeared the dashboard had collapsed from the impact of front-ending the support pillar, trapping her legs between the seat and the dash. Or so it seemed at first, Jenny Moore was still a brown bear aniwoman and had very much the strength befitting her ursine appearance underneath all her hibernation blubber. Still, for perhaps the first time since she saw it, the Road Hog was grateful the Lady Bug was a cheaply made piece of junk as she pulled and broke herself free of the wrecked car.

Crawling out of the wreckage, Moore turned to look at the ruined car and promptly shook her head. No, not even DeeDee could resurrect this wreck, the front end was so badly smashed that she was surprised she didn't wake up to have the engine in her lap. Walking away with a waddling-stagger, she wanted nothing more then to collapse on her fat duff and pass out again. Still, she slowly walked on, thankful she always wore her Tank-X armored vest and keeping an eye open for DeeDee. Like it or not, he was her partner in this stupid job and probably the only other Burger World operative for a thousand miles, she had to find him.

"Moore?" A familiar voice called out. There was no way, could it be?

"Betty?" Moore called back as a familiar Burger World tabby cat walked into the abandoned warehouse and lowered her weapon. The hyper-hourglass feline smiled and called back to the rest of her team. Next thing the bear knew, she was being lead to a Valkryia APC and sat down next to DeeDee. The rest of the team was there... Samantha Fisherman cradled a sub machinegun as she watched the rear for hostiles. Spoons was behind the wheel, Moore's eyes briefly went wide as she saw the blond golden Labrador happily waiting for them to get started. The Burger World canine was a Steel Chef, a food scientist, not a driver. And while many things missed her notice, the bear's obvious terror at seeing her behind the wheel was not one of them.

"Like, chill out Moore. This is just like driving a food truck." The airhead canine reassured her ursine cohort before turning back to Betty. "We all ready to go boss?" she asked as the feline sealed up the APC.

"Yes, let's continue on to Munich so we can radio headquarters and maybe congratulate the winners while we're at it. At least now we can stop, we've been following the race since you left the M.A.W." Betty ordered as she took a seat next to Moore. As the vehicle roared to life and took off after the surviving racers, Tank Ass and Daisy Dukes leaned back and let themselves drift off to sleep. Burger World may have been forced out of the race but it wasn't like they didn't go down fighting...

Pounds groaned as she came to and found herself suspended in air thanks to a very sturdy seat belt. In the process of being driven off the road, the Spirit had been flipped and landed on its side. Anvil was gone, likely thrown clear in the crash. Snarling, she unbuckled herself and promptly regretted it. The shift in mass had caused the car to turn and flip over, almost crushing her and trapping her underneath the car. Grabbling the Genteel revolver from the glove box and giving the door latch an experimental tug, she crawled out of her flipped Spirit and slowly rose to her feet to survey the damage.

All things considered, the car actually looked salvageable. Bodywork would probably keep Anvil tied up for weeks if she actually cared enough to start building a collection but it was nice to see that something had survived the incident with only a few scratches. Oh yes, it definitely was the only thing to emerge unscathed; she contemplated as jolts of pain shot up through her arm. Thank heavens it was her left and she was right handed. Still, driving was going to be quite difficult right now...

A familiar black car, her beloved Lethal Bulk she realized with a start, had pulled up next to the wreck just as she found where Anvil had landed. The equine was still alive though badly bruised in... everywhere really. Still, nothing immediately seemed to be broken which was good as she only had so much Regen-Up in the car. Meanwhile, Lady Nelson, Hilda, and a company medic had exited the car and were coming up as fast as they could. Armored polymer greaves sank into the tilled earth of the German countryside as Nelson and Hilda quickly swept the immediate area from behind the obsidian visor of their KnightWorks hardsuits. Though was it the wolf's imagination or did she hear the German sheep start to cry inside her armor at the sight of the injured equine...?

Well that settled it, Bansh decided as he dug out the "care package" out of the Spirit's trunk. PanAsia had given him a small crate of equipment at the M.A.W., a plan B in case something else happened. While Soy assessed the damage to their vehicle after the strange German vehicle has managed to blow up both of their rear tires, he opened the crate and found himself grateful the container was as heavy and durable as it looked. Inside was most of his gear. The Samurai assault rifle was apparently still back at his last posting in Adipose City but his Guardsman sharpshooter's rifle was here as well as most of his camping gear and navigation equipment. Looking back at Soy, she shook her head dismissively, the Spirit was impossible to repair with what she had available.

"Well then it looks like we are walking the rest of the way to Munich unless we can appropriate a vehicle. Maybe we'll encounter the Taco King team along the way?" Bansh asked with a shrug and a smile as he loaded up their gear into his backpack and gripped his Guardsman rifle. At least it was a lovely day for a walk...

In the end it was a close finish, the Armadillos were neck and neck as the remaining racers approached Munich. Close, so close... and Hummer's truck inched out ahead for the win! The freelancers had done it and the million-credit prize was theirs. Yet in many ways it felt like a hollow victory, they had won only because four of the five other teams were knocked out of the race at the last leg. Yet before the victorious vixen could ask a few pointed questions about the status of the other racers or the mysterious Hamburg truck, the defeated teams arrived. First was Aristo in a jet black sedan that stopped on the finish line long enough to deposit a top-heavy vixen in a suit of polymer armor before driving off in the direction of the Munich hospital, honking rudely as it went.

Next to pass was PanAsia and Taco King, crammed together in a small pickup truck that... looked almost like a miniature version of the giant wheeled leviathan that had run so many of them off the road. Thunder looked relieved to see Soy riding in the vehicle's bed with Choques, the panda in turn smiled to see him standing next to Hummer in first place. The truck only stopped long enough for Bansh to shout "PanAsia and Taco King have arrived" before driving off. Where they went Hummer couldn't even begin to guess at the moment.

Finally came an armored Valkryia APC painted in patriotic Burger World colors, the heavy vehicle only stopping long enough to drop off Bazooka Betty before lumbering off to who knows where like before. Aristo and Burger World agents looked at each other briefly with a professional cool before turning towards the judging panel. The two chesty females paused only long enough to congratulate the first and second place winners before turning towards the judges. "Gentlemen, I believe all our companies are going to want to have a word with you later. A few questions about some of your ill-mannered neighbors...."

Epilogue...

DeeDee was silent as he sat with Moore in a German tavern, the bear watching him intently as he devoured a plat of bratwurst with a tankard of ale. Neither of them had spoken to one another since Betty and the test of their team picked them up. Making a face, she decided now was as good of a time as any. "Alright DumDum, what are you going to try and weasel out of me now?"

"Why sugs, ah didn't think you'd get around to asking me. Truth is, I don't know. Ah will keep it in mind though." He answered with a mischievous smile; yeah this was something he was going to make her sweat over for a while....

Bansh smiled as he lay down in bed in his underwear. Another soft bed in a relatively upscale hotel, a belly crammed to bursting with food from a buffet crawl through downtown Munich, and his selections for room service breakfast already picked out. It was hard to picture this night getting any better when he heard the knock on the door. Getting up and opening it, he was surprised to see Hummer with a sly glint in her eye. Smiling warmly, he turned back to his menu and tripled his order for breakfast tomorrow before added another serving of dinner for his guest, a perfect way to celebrate the end of a hectic assignment. Lying back down, he playfully patted on the mattress, beckoning her to join him. Yes, tonight was going to be a wonderful night indeed.